The Dysfunctional Tale of a Lucid Dreamer
by Neo Genesis1
Summary: Beam me up, Scotty' is completely fanon. The direct quote is 'Beam us up, Mr. Scott.' Too bad this isn't a Star Trek universe. A transporter would be very handy at the moment. Except it doesn't exist anywhere, let alone a LotR nightmare. Rated for lang.


**Author's Note**: I had a long, wine induced rant about the way too many self-insertion fics that populate most of my favorite fandoms today, and I said to myself: "Self, why doesn't anyone ever throw themselves into an already existing character? I mean, that would make more sense then having a random person drop into the story and reek complete havoc and destroy a perfectly good canon." So I drank another glass of Cabernet and got to thinking. What if _I_ just freaking did it? What if I bit the bullet and wrote a story using one of my most hated plot cliches, but do it the Neo way? Which, ultimately, means the most twisted way possible.

I haven't been much into the LotR fandom in the past few years. I've seen too many strange, scary things there that have tickled my gag reflex and made me hate the internetZ. And I must always cherish my beloved internetZ. But if I'm going to be writing this story (which is not only a sign from above that I've must have lost all since of dignity, but I should start spending my time in a wiser fashion) I decided to go for a LotR movie verse story. I've seen the most SI fics there anyway.

I'm sure my approach to this has been done before. I can live with that. It's still going to be interesting. For me at least. And I'm feeling selfish today, so that's all that matters. But ye olde faithful user of the ff [dot net might just get some enjoyment out of it too. So... yeah. Enjoy.

TheDysfunctional Tale of a Lucid Dreamer  
Prologue

When asked what type of person I am, I tend to tell people I'm a passkey.

Sounds a little strange, I know. But if you know what a passkey is then it's easy to see the connection. It's a simple key that goes into a simple lock, and more times then not, will open several other locks that it wasn't even designed for. They were popular back in the 1800s, used by jailers and the such because of the fact that they worked so well on almost anything.

Now, for that whole simile bit that wraps up nicely why I consider myself as such. I grew up in a very strange environment with an even stranger family. They spent a lot of time back in the 60s and 70s traveling, drinking too much beer and becoming major fans of Miss Mary Jane. Their general outtake on life is, "It's cool, man." I learned from them at a very young age to just let things be. There are going to be times in life when you're going to be in a situation that you have no control over with people you'd just as soon strangle then talk to.

Thus, my being a passkey. I'm very good at assimilating. I was the kid in high school that bounced from group to group and was able to put on the right mask. I wouldn't go as far to say that everyone knew me, but I didn't know of anyone who hated me. I was able to hold my own at a party with the upper crust of society as much as I was while hanging in the park after hours trying to score some shrooms with the dead beats. I might not open every door or lock, but the fit is close enough that you barely notice. I'm the passkey.

Little old arrogant me thought there would never be a place or time where I couldn't make the best of the situation. Who could blame me, really? So far things had always worked to my advantage,

It was only a matter of time before I was taught a lesson, but whatever deity hovers about didn't have to go through such extremes to prove that my passkey theory wouldn't hold out forever.

Because, really, when you wake up in a body of the opposite sex in a universe that doesn't exist outside of cinema and written word, the punishment hardly seems far.

If this was a television show, now would be the appropriate time to cue the Twilight Zone opening narration. But it's not, and I don't find it entertaining in the slightest.

Neither does Gimli, who's consciousness is screaming in the back of our shared mind as I gape in disbelief at the surroundings of what is, without a doubt, my strangest dream to date.


End file.
